Thrown into the Rift
by HPmegafan
Summary: Robyn was thrown into the rift at the age of sixteen. It was never meant to happen, but it did. It altered the whole of her fate, and the fate of Torchwood. She was never supposed to be there but she was. She'll help the team, fall in love, watch people die but she doesn't regret any of it. Rated M for possible lemons and some swearing.
1. Prologue

_Cardiff, overall, is a special city. It's not the architecture, or the people, or even the industries that define it as unique. There is something hidden there, a whole establishment of secrets. There's weevils in the sewers, a village of cannibals not so far from the edges of the city, a base of alien hunters hidden beneath Roald Dahl Pass. _

_Why is this all in one city? There is a rift, a crack in time and space, that runs right through the whole of the city. It sends things through, the garbage of time; thrown through a crack and ending up here._

_Torchwood was set up to protect the humans from the aliens, to arm the human race against the future. We've been through so much and I think it's time that its story got told. Most people will probably rule this off as fiction anyway._


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: I don't own Frank, Solomon or any other characters except Robyn here. They're all from the Doctor Who episodes: Daleks in Manhatten and Evolution of the Daleks._

* * *

The night was cool and calm. It was odd that it wasn't freezing in this darkness, it was Wales after all. Of course, the bench that I was sitting on was slightly wet from the earlier rain but it wasn't soaked.

I wrapped my jacket a bit closer around myself as a chilly wind blew in my direction.

I'd been out here for half an hour, that was all. After arguing with my dad, I just really didn't want to be there. The tension that filled the air between us was unbelievable.

So I just sat there, listening to the sound of the cars passing and trying to clear my head. I hadn't even wanted to come to Cardiff. We were only here for a short holiday but I'd wanted to stay in London this week instead. There'd been a concert that I'd been wanting to go to with a couple of friends.

But, no. My dad had booked for me, him, my mum and my brother to stay in a small hotel in the Welsh capital. It was a nice place but I wanted to be standing in a huge, screaming crowd of fans watching my favourite band.

After another twenty minutes or so, I stood and made my way across the road. At least walking would keep me a little bit warmer than sitting around.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed in front of my eyes- growing larger and larger. I squinted into it, covering my eyes with one hand. I thought it was the headlights of a lorry or a bus but it didn't let up and I couldn't hear the sound of an engine.

Then, my feet left the ground and I gave a small cry of shock. Air was suddenly rushing past me as I was pushed forwards by an invisible force. It was like being on a roller-coaster, without the roller-coaster. I could feel that I was screaming, but no sound could be heard.

What was happening? Then came the searing pain. My whole body felt as though it was on fire, burning all over. My eyes were squeezed tightly closed but the light was still there. Pain, so much pain. Tears that ran down my cheeks were immediately evapourated at the heat of my skin.

I must have passed out; four, maybe five, times before it was over and my body sagged to the ground. It was odd though, I was positive I'd been walking across a road and now I was lying on the grass.

There was no time to contemplate it because I felt unconsciousness take me over. In those last few seconds before the darkness took over, I was almost positive I was going to die.

At that point I had no idea of where I was, or when I was. I hadn't known about the rift, I hadn't expected a crack in time to swallow me up and transport me almost a century into the past and over 5000 kilometers away.

Why should I have? By the time I woke up, I'd gathered that I wasn't in Cardiff anymore.

* * *

My head lifted up from the damp grass as the sunlight shone down on me. It was warmer than the air in Cardiff. As I looked up, it was hard to spot the city surrounding me. I stood slowly and stared, unable to take my eyes off the tall buildings. I could see so much detail in the architecture. Even from this distance, I could see each brick and stone used to make it.

I could also hear a lot too. The birds singing around me in the trees and the chattering of people in the city. That was impossible! Was I dreaming?

I thought I was in a campsite or something in a city because not far off was what looked like a massive group of tents. I began heading that way, my feet trampling across grass and plants as I walked. Something was oddly familiar about the city but I couldn't place my finger on it.

When I reached the camping ground, I frowned as I looked at the people. They were dirty, living in tents made of thin layers of material. Was this a camping ground for homeless people?

A guy walked past me, doing a double take, then stopped in his track. "You walk through a place like this in clothes like those then you may get mugged," he told me in an American accent. "What are you doing here?"

I frowned. "Wish I knew," I replied. "Where is exactly is 'here'?"

He tilted his head slightly, the flatcap he was wearing slipping a little. "Hooverville," he replied. "Surely you'd know that if you're staying here. You lost or something?"

I shrugged then sighed. "I think so..." I replied. "I don't really know how I got here."

"Where'd ya live?" the boy asked, stepping a little closer to me.

"I live in London."

He gave a laugh. "Well you're a long way off from there. Where ya living in New York?"

"I don't live anywhere in New York," I said, confused.

The boy nodded and held out his hand. "I'm Frank. You came to the right place. None of us here have homes either."

I accepted his grimy hand and shook it. "I'm Robyn," I replied softly then looked at the taller buildings. Was I really in New York? How the hell did I get there?

"I'll introduce you to Solomon, he should be able to get you settled in." He released my hand to pull down his cap a little before indicating for me to follow him as he set off through the rows of tents.


	3. Chapter 2

Solomon was a nice enough guy. He was the leader of Hooverville, the unofficial president if you will.

I'd been living in the village for about a month now, having learned that it was 1930. There was no way back to my home and I still had utterly no clue how I had gotten here.

I'd been staying next door to Frank, whom I had grown close to. He was pretty much the only friend I had in this place. He was teaching me how to find odd jobs to get money for food and other necessities. It was shocking how little work there was here.

The people who lived in Hooverville had all lost their original homes so were forced to live out in the little tents in the middle of Central Park.

I'd only learned about the disappearances recently. Somebody would call out for help in the night but, by the time anybody reached them, they would be gone. Nobody knew what had happened, nobody cared. The people of Hooverville didn't seem important to the rest of Manhattan, even though any one of them could end up there.

I was glad that I had mastered the art of pickpocketing when I was a bit younger, it helped with getting food for people who looked like they were starving. I'd taken to cooking a pot of stew every night for those in my so-called 'neighborhood'. Sometimes it was rather nice, depending on what I could get to add to it. Other times it was quite rancid but, with everyone's empty stomachs, it still went down a treat.

I was sitting, stirring a large pot over the fire I had built when I heard a noise and looked up to see Frank.

"Hi," I said with a small smile as he sat down next to me.

"Howdy, there. Need any help?" Frank asked, nodding at the stew.

I shook my head. "I think it's nearly done. You can help me serve it around though."

Frank nodded. "Right. Ya wanna take a walk with me after we've eaten?"

"Okay," I replied with a shrug as I stood. I'd already gained an audience, as I did most nights. They were patient and waited for me to tell them I was done. "If you wanna pass Frank your plates and bowls and he'll sort you out with some stew," I told them and soon Frank had a growing pile of dishes by his side. They were pretty dirty, filthy in fact, but beggars couldn't be choosers and there wasn't really anywhere to wash the plates.

I'd even had to sell my golden chain necklace to buy the huge pot that I used to cook the stew in. I still had a few coins in my pocket but I was saving them for an emergency.

When everyone was given their food, I handed him a bowl and a roll of bread. His eyes widened slightly. "This ain't...?" he ripped it open and sniffed the roll, taking in the scent of the fresh bread.

I nodded. "I nicked it from the market earlier today," I replied.

"Yur amazing," Frank told me and it caused my cheeks to flush a little.

"I know," I murmured softly.

The boy ripped it in half and held out part of it to me but I shook my head. "You have it," I replied as I drank some of my stew. I always got the worst part of it, the horrible mushy stuff at the bottom. I didn't really mind though. These people had lived in this crappy life longer than I had so they deserved better than I.

Once he was done, Frank leaned back against a plank of wood that made up some of my 'tent' as he waited for me to finish. "Yer done good around here, yer know that?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I frowned as I looked at him.

"I dunno," Frank replied. "Yer figured out a way to fix up a loada food for the people of this here place. I've heard Betty George from further in is also taking a leaf out of yur book and making stew for those in her little stretch."

"Really?" I asked, smiling slightly. I hadn't heard that. I put my bowl on the ground when I finished.

Frank nodded and adjusted his flat cap. "So how about that walk, then?" he asked.

I nodded and placed my bowl in the stew pot, shoving it into my small tent as I stood up. "Sure."

He stood too and indicated the direction before setting off. I walked side by side with him until we made it out of the small town.

"What do yer think of all of those disappearances?" Frank asked suddenly when we were alone.

I shrugged. "I don't know what to think," I replied.

"I've beena thinkin' about thems a lot lately. What if one of us is next?" Frank looked at me, seemingly quite worried. I let him continue without interruption. "I always keep thinkin', what if I go and I can't say goodbye? What if I never tell y'all...?"

"Tell me what?" I asked, frowning at him. I really couldn't get his point in all of this.

Frank rung his hands together, looking down at the ground. "Er... um..." he murmured and I patiently waited. "Yur an amazing person, Rob. Since yer came here, I think yer've cheered up so many people- especially me. I er... I wanted to tell you that I think I think I'm going a bit goofy for yer. I mean, yur a really nice doll and yur no dumb Dora either..."

"I don't really understand..." I murmured. He was using so much slang that it was difficult for me to make out the meaning behind his words.

"I'm just trying to be level with yer," Frank told me. "I ain't got much jack and I definitely ain't hard boiled but yer a really nice and purty tomato..."

I finally clicked into what he was saying. He liked me? Really? I mean, I did fancy him a little but I didn't think he'd like me back.

He continued talking, his words growing into even more slang. Then, with a split-second decision, I stood on my toes and kissed him on the lips softly. His arms went around my waist as he kissed me back before withdrawing but keeping our faces close.

"I think that's the nicest way anyone ever told me to pipe down," he murmured softly.


End file.
